Page 65 of North

North slammed back against the wall as Martin took off down the hallway.

Nope.

North scrambled to his feet, lunged after him, caught him at the stairs.

They went down, fighting, tumbling, slamming against the wall, the railing, and finally thundering to the bottom.

Somehow, North got his arm around the man’s throat, put him in a sleeper hold.

Smoke filled the lower level, and his eyes burned.

“Where is she?” North tightened his hold, threw his leg around Martin.

Martin had gotten a hand under North’s arm, fighting the pressure. Then he drove his elbow into North’s ribs.

North grunted.

Martin did the same. Then he pushed off the wall, propelling them both down, toward the flames.

The heat hit North’s back as he tried to stop them, but the oily floor and his own slippery shoes fought him.

Then Martin’s fist found his throat. North gagged, grip loosening. They slid across the slick hardwood, knocking over a chair. Family photos crashed from the walls.

Martin broke free, rounded, and North got his boot up just in time to send him sprawling.

Then he popped up, and North’s fist connected with the man’s jaw. Blood sprayed across the floor, mixing with the accelerant. Martin stumbled back and turned.

And fled out the door.

“Stop!”

An engine revved. Tires sprayed gravel.

North turned and scrambled back up the stairs. “Selah!”

Already, smoke filled the hallway. He flung open the master-bedroom closet, expecting another door there.

Nothing but clothing.

“Selah!”

No response. He turned and headed back to the hallway—then to the next room.

A girl’s room, with a pink bedspread and posters and nothing resembling a safe room.

The next room held a toddler bed, trucks, books.

“Selah!” He headed back out to the stairs, but fire blocked his path, a wall of orange and black. Smoke rolled across the ceiling, thick and oily from the accelerant. The heat drove him back, singeing his borrowed flannel.

The staircase groaned as the fire licked it.

He ran back to the master. Then into the bathroom.

And there he spotted it. A closet door, attached to what seemed like the outside wall of the house. He tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge.

He sent his fist into it with a shout.

It didn’t even shudder, his fist on fire.